


secure in your hands

by ivelostmyspectacles



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Asexual Character, Established Relationship, Inspired by Fanart, Lingerie, M/M, Martin in lingerie!!, Non-Explicit Sex, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 16:27:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21211574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/ivelostmyspectacles
Summary: “So you… like it then?” he managed, in between kisses, warm against Jon’s mouth and a hand at his jaw. “You don’t think it’s weird?”





	secure in your hands

**Author's Note:**

> to all my non-uk readers: suspenders (uk) = garter belt (us)  
who would have guessed, I did not ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

“Martin.”

“Yes– _ yes, _ just…”

“This is new territory to us _ both, _ Martin.”

“I _ know. _ I just…” Martin groaned, muffled beyond the bathroom door. “God, I really should have blindfolded you.”

Jon let out a breath he must have been holding, and shifted uncomfortably on the mattress. God, his ankle was going to sleep where he was sitting on it. “Would you like me to close my eyes?” he asked, dry, and shifted again.

“… y–yeah, actually, maybe,” Martin stammered. “Could… _ could _ you? Just until I… until I get over there, I guess?”

… he hadn’t been serious, but. “Fine,” he said, acquiescing. He closed his eyes. “But you’d better come _out of there.”_

“I will, I _ will, _ just– don’t laugh.”

“Martin, I–” Damn, he was supposed to keep his eyes closed. He closed them again before Martin could open the door. “I’m not going to _ laugh. _ Nothing about this is going to be vaguely _ amusing.” _

“You haven’t seen me yet,” Martin muttered.

He opened his mouth to… to argue, he supposed, but the presence of movement brushed by at the foot of the bed, and Jon went still. Waiting for Martin to… to do _ something, _ to give him permission to open his eyes so he had definitive proof for the argument.

Lingerie wasn’t precisely off his radar, although he had to admit he had been slightly taken off guard when _ Martin _ had suggested it.

The mattress shifted; Jon tensed his weight to hold steady and keep himself in place and still, waiting. The anticipation was as strong as the curiosity now; so he’d been taken aback– not quite a terribly uncommon feat– but then the way Martin had looked so _ intrigued _ and the mental image had given way to _ this, _ Asking Martin if he’d like to show him and… here they were.

Martin settled, and Jon clenched and relaxed his hands on knees. “Martin?”

“Al… Alright.”

Jon liked learning, and they’d long established that he liked _ Martin. _ He didn’t hesitate on the go-ahead.

The first thing he took in was that Martin was _ blushing, _ a furious shade of red in matching with his hair. And while Jon _ liked _ it when Martin blushed, he’d seen plenty of it before and undeniably would again. He moved on.

The… robe was sheer black, draped loosely about Martin’s shoulders. Falling away from one, even, and Jon almost reached over to fix it on principle before remembering _ that’s the point. _ An exposed collarbone, and the freckles along his pale skin. Jon was staring already, _ cataloging, _ and could already feel his face warming in embarrassment as well. The secondhand nature of the thing… he moved on.

The… _ bra– _ Christ, he got hotter just thinking that word, but what else was he supposed to call it– black satin, by the catch of the light. Frilly along the edges, trimmed in eyelet lace still as black as pitch. Simple, unremarkable, but… _ not _ simple, and _ not _ unremarkable, settled snug around Martin’s chest. Martin shifted uncomfortably, and Jon watched the way the fabric moved, the straps pressing to skin and the way the cups didn’t settle flush for lack of cleavage.

The panties matched, of course, plain black with a tiny bow settled at the elastic directly above Martin’s crotch._ A present waiting to be unwrapped, _ something blurted in his head, and Jon felt the heat slide all the way down to curl into his gut.

He was spiralling himself out of control, nervous embarrassment at Martin’s lingerie and his bare skin, a body that had become so intimately familiar to him as _ Martin, _ scars at his chest and the creases of rolls at his stomach, pale but intriguing in a way Jon had never been quite able to put words to. He wasn't _ good _ at physical attraction. But this was an art in its own way, aesthetic at a point where he felt he shouldn’t be staring but was, in reality, the only one _ allowed _ to. His privilege, actually. 

Flattering.

“W–_ Well?” _ Martin muttered. _ “Please _ don’t just– _ stare–” _

“There’s a lot to–” _ take in, _and he hadn’t even digested the rest of it, like the suspenders and– and… stockings… stock–

Despite himself, then, Jon _ did _ laugh. Just once, a short, sharp noise that Martin recoiled from. “No, wait–” Jon grabbed his arm, keeping him from fleeing, or whatever he’d been about to do. _ “Martin, _ are those _ eyes?” _

“I– _ oh.” _ Martin sucked in a breath. “Yeah, I– I thought it was… ha– I thought it was funny, at the… time…”

“Funny,” Jon repeated, monotone, but it… _ was. _ Christ, Martin _ would _ buy stockings with stylistic eyes on them.

“I– yeah, I–” Martin laughed again, too, then, slightly more… uninhibited. And again, trailing off with a tiny hum of amusement, pressing his hand over his mouth. “Sorry, it was _ stupid,” _ he laughed, dragging his hand across his face. “Spur of the moment pick, I guess.”

“I like it,” Jon said, and Martin peeked at him through his fingers. “It’s very you. Very _ us, _ I suppose.”

“Yeah…?”

“And you truly _ are _ a… sight to… behold.”

His attempt at a joke hung heavy after, while Martin stared at him and he looked back at Martin. That… that had been almost as bad as the stockings themselves, hadn’t it? Jon wrinkled his nose, and Martin spluttered another laugh behind his hand.

“Jon, was that a… a _ joke?” _

“I–I– _ yes, _ I’ll admit it wasn’t a very _ good _ one–”

“No, no, um, it was _ fitting–” _

“You don’t need to placate me here, Martin.”

Maybe it had been beneficial, though. Martin was… _ smiling, _ thin and nervous like he wasn’t sure if he ought to be, really, but a tiny bit of the anxiety was gone from the way he held himself. He looked a little more at _ ease, _ now, a little more relaxed beneath lace and straps and satin and the stockings hugging at his thighs and knees and calves…

It was a good look. He didn’t need to be well-versed in physical attraction to figure that much.

“No, I just like your jokes.”

“I like your choices,” Jon said, resting his hand on Martin’s thigh. Dark like the rest, and the silver embroidered eyes at the tops. He brushed his thumb along the raised edges, and then curled a fingertip beneath them. “Eyes or not,” he added, and slipped his finger free with a tiny _ snap _ of nylon against Martin’s thigh.

Martin jerked, and whispered “oh, Christ” so quietly that Jon barely noticed. But he did. He slid his hand down along his knee, focusing on the faint tingling sensation beneath his fingertips and the way Martin’s breath had hitched.

“You really like this.”

“Y–Yeah– um. ‘course.”

“Why?” Jon put just enough _ question _ into his voice, just enough _ compulsion _ to allow Martin to answer honestly. Answer without worrying what Jon would think.

“Because it feels nice,” he said breathlessly. “It’s… everything is snug, and feels _ good. _ Those– the stockings– they’re… they hug everything? Compress everything. It’s… it makes me feel better? About my size, a bit. But it’s also… the– the way it feels when you brush your legs against each other, the way the nylon catches. And you’re touching me, you know… you can _ feel _ how nice it is, but imagine wearing them. It’s like a hug for your legs, or something.

“And the… everything else,” he continued, a little softer, “it’s kind of the same. It feels… nice to be in something sexy. It feels sexy. That I can be just… _ just Martin, _ with jumpers and hoodies and old trousers, but I can be… I– I am this, too. And it’s nice to… actually _ see _ that? Actually know I can be. It’s a confidence boost. And– And if you like it, too, then… that means I’m not just… deluding myself…” he trailed off, and then frowned. A tiny tug at his lips, and meeting Jon’s gaze. “That wasn’t fair.”

“I wanted to Know.” His hand followed the line of the suspenders, tracing against them where they strained against Martin’s thighs. “Without you censoring yourself in your embarrassment.” 

Martin was right. It _ was _ sensation. The nylon was soft, but just textured enough that he’d wanted to run his hands over them once, and then again. Material catching against the callouses at his fingers, gentle over the old sensitive scars at his hand and wrists. The cool plastic of the adjusters on the suspenders, smoothing up the satin of the underwear and settling up over at his hips. Everything felt nice beneath his hands, so he believed Martin wholeheartedly: he expected it _ would _ be nice to feel as the one properly wearing it. He didn’t think he’d take that leap anytime soon, but the idea was an interesting one.

“I don’t understand these things,” he admitted, shifting his gaze from the lingerie and Martin’s exposed skin. “Not well. So I want you to tell me the truth.” He stretched up, intent on pressing a kiss to the corner of Martin’s mouth. “So I Asked,” he said, and pressed his lips there.

“Oh…” He breathed out sharply, and then, _ “Jon, _ can I–”

“Yes.”

Martin turned his head, kissing him urgently. “So you… like it then?” he managed, in between kisses, warm against Jon’s mouth and a hand at his jaw. “You don’t think it’s weird?”

“It makes you feel good. I like that.” An honest answer. Besides, Martin knew he couldn’t give him… knew he wouldn’t… wouldn’t look at a piece of clothing or a body or _ anything _ and call it– er, _ hot. _ Jon didn’t. But _ confidence _ on Martin was _ nice. _ Happiness on Martin was _ nice. _ He did like it, in those terms. Very much.

Seeing Martin smile _ was _ the goal here. 

“Oh…” Martin breathed, and then made a low noise in the back of his throat, raising both hands to frame Jon’s face. “Thank you…”

“Why are you thanking _ me?” _

“Because you– because…”

“Yes, alright.” He pulled back, marveling at the blush on Martin’s cheeks and then contemplating over the strap at his shoulder. Probably, it was a bit bold– but it _ did _ feel nice to touch and Martin _ was _ wearing it for a reason– so Jon only hesitated for a second before ducking his head to kiss at the strip of fabric there.

“… what… what are you doing…?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly, and followed the line of it with his nose. Down to be able to kiss the edges of lace, a sensation that made his lips _ tingle. _ He moved on to the satin, smoothing down the misfires of feeling across his mouth. “It feels nice,” he continued, because it mostly _ did, _ and it was different to touch with his lips than his hands. And, as he understood, more… erogenous. 

“Jon…”

“Hm?”

“Why are you…”

“You like it,” he said, with another quick pass of his lips. “Or am I doing it wrong?”

“No, you’re– you _ know _ you’re not doing it wrong–” he breathed, fingers settling in Jon’s hair. “You _ Know.” _

By his limited omniscience, by Martin trembling beneath his touch, the way his breathing was more and more uneven the more Jon sought out the textures and feel of the lingerie. By the way Martin said his name, something Jon could recognize if not wholly understand. But even still.

“Just wanted to be sure,” he said, tracing his knuckles along one of his scars. Then the other, the pad of his thumb chasing the line of it before settling his palm, determined, at Martin’s side. “You should lay down.”

“W–Why?”

“Thought you’d like to be comfortable when you get off.”

“Oh _ God.” _

Not wholly understandable, but Jon still _ knew _ Martin well enough. The briefest flash of a smile hidden into that lingerie, then he splayed his other hand on his chest to push him back into the blankets. 

He went with a tiny whuff of air, the creak of mattress springs and Jon following to return to kissing at his face. “You want to, right?”

“I– I– y–yeah,” Martin muttered. _ “Yeah, _ I do. Jon. God. Yes, Jon.”

“Then do it.”

“You– Christ, you’re going to _ kill _ me like this.”

“Not sure you’d mind,” Jon pointed out against his throat. 

“Don’t think I– don’t think I would–”

“Mmhm.”

Jon didn’t need the aid of Entities to know that one. Familiar as Martin was these days, the intimate knowledge he had of the way he took himself apart by his own hand, beneath Jon as he nosed along his jaw and collarbone and racing pulse. Familiar in the way Martin threw a hand over his mouth before sagging into the mattress, and Jon passed his lips over his knuckles in lieu of a proper kiss.

“Well done.”

Martin made a tiny noise, turning his hand to press over Jon’s mouth. “Don’t… don’t _ praise _ me, right now, I’ll–” He shivered. “Bit much, Jon, um.”

“Alright,” Jon relented. He pulled back, sitting back on his ankles again. Just… sort of looking now, again. Start and finish with observing, and he supposed that was fitting, too, for him. Martin, sprawled out and skin flushed a deep red, still trying to catch his breath. “Still feel… er– … sexy?”

“Ha–” His chest heaved with laughter, and he dropped his arm over his eyes. “I feel _ sweaty.” _

Jon smiled wryly. “You are, a little. Shower?”

“I might just… sleep, I think.”

“Mm.” Sounded fine, too. He reached for his glasses, and paused. “You should… soak your things in cold,” he said, eyes flicking to his groin and then back to his face without lingering. “Don’t want them ruined for next time.”

“Next…” Martin peeked over his arm. “… time?”

“I like you liking it,” he said definitively, dropping his frames on the nightstand before laying down. “Next time, if you prefer.” He settled himself under the blankets, curling in next to him.

“I…” Martin took a breath, pausing a second before reaching for Jon’s hand. “I’d like that,” he admitted, and kissed the back of his fingers. “Thanks… yeah, thank you, Jon.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

_ “Everything,” _Martin promised, and Jon… was content to let both of them believe that, right now. For now, the rest of the world couldn’t touch them here.

**Author's Note:**

> [inspired by @planetsandmagic fanart which you can find right here ](https://twitter.com/planetsandmagic/status/1186583065230893062?s=19)[vaguely NSFW bc. lingerie] bless 
> 
> ft my spd!jon hc who just really likes the feel of satin on his lips and pantyhose beneath his hands. good touch feels. and also of course making martin happy... <strike>smol jon pushing tol marto back on the bed tho folks 👌👌👌</strike>


End file.
